The Commodore's Captive
by PirateMistress123
Summary: Set before DMC. Commodore James Norrington and his men come across a wrecked pirate ship and take the survivors prisoner. Their captain is a young woman, and James finds out that she will do anythin to ensure the saftey of her men. Sexual content!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- **Well, this is just some Norrie smut I thought up until my muse returns to help me along with my Jack/OC story. I saw AWE recently, and I thought my beloved Norrington looked simply delicious (although he didn't have nearly enough screen time), so I had to write some much needed smut. I hope you all enjoy! Please review: )

**Summary**- Let's just say this takes place before DMC. Commodore Norrington comes across a wrecked pirate ship. The surviving pirates are taken prisoner. Strangely enough, their captain is a woman… and James will soon find out that she is willing to do anything to save her men…. **Warning! **Rated M for a reason ; )

**Disclaimer- **I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. Unfortunately.

**The Commodore's Captive**

"You requested a private meeting with me, Miss O'Callaghan," James said emotionlessly, "I assume you have something of importance to say?"

The young woman who sat across from him at his table, really looked little more than a girl-child. She certainly didn't look like a pirate… but he had learned many times that looks could be deceiving, and he could not be lax simply because the pirate he had captured on this day had a pretty face. She would go to the gallows like the rest of them.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder how a girl such as her had gotten into piracy. Her pale white face was clean and composed, and her long dark red hair was sleek and combed. She had intelligent green eyes that might have had him intoxicated under other circumstances, but as it were he tried to keep his more… _male…_ desires in check. She looked more like a woman of society rather than a pirate.

"Commodore," she replied in a silken voice, her soft Irish accent showing through a bit. 'Purred' was probably a better word for the sound that came from her mouth. "There is no need to stand on ceremony with me. Please, call me Bridget." Under the table, her small hand came to rest upon his knee, and James had to stand and move away.

"I prefer to uphold the rules of propriety, _Miss O'Callaghan_," he said firmly, though it was very tempting to take her up on the offer. He turned and looked to the window, so that he didn't see Bridget slipping something into his drink.

A small dose of laudanum to soothe his nerves and lower his inhibitions. It was not enough to harm him or make him sleep, but it was the perfect amount for what she had planned. Bridget was careful to make sure that he didn't see her pour a few droplets into his tea and put the phial back into her coat. Soon enough propriety would mean nothing to James Norrington.

James, still unaware of what had transpired behind his back, returned to the table, though he didn't sit. He picked up his tea and took a long sip as he gazed at the lovely woman in front of him. "You still have not informed me as to why you are here, Miss," he prompted.

The young woman bit her lip and looked away for a moment, as if in thought. As she leaned back in her chair, James couldn't help but notice the soft swell of her breasts in her plain white shirt. She had left it unbuttoned almost to the point of leaving nothing to the imagination. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably as he felt a stirring in his britches.

"Why do you do what you do, Commodore?" she finally asked, drawing his gaze away from the bounty of her bosom to her eyes, "I mean, why do you feel as if you must be the scourge of piracy on these high seas?"

He sighed. It seemed she wanted to beat around the bush rather than get straight to whatever it was that she wished to speak of. He could play that game. He was a patient man. "Because I believe in doing what's right and good, Miss O'Callaghan," he explained, "Not in doing what is the easiest or most profitable for myself."

"Oh, I see," Bridget replied as if suddenly enlightened. A hint of mischief glinted in her mesmerizing green eyes, and James couldn't help but stare back into them. "Then doing this earns you no profit, hmm?"

James scoffed. "Just because I do earn a profit does not mean I do what I do simply _for _the profit."

Bridget acted as if she agreed wholeheartedly with what he was saying, but she still managed to inject her attitude with an unhealthy shot of sarcasm. "Yes," and the fact that every time you bring a pirate to the gallows- 'justice' as you call it- the mindless crowds who know nothing of the truth cheer for you as if you were a conquering hero." She quirked one eyebrow.

He glared at her. "I may not be what qualifies as a 'hero.' Never have I said that I was…." Oddly enough, the room seemed to tilt a bit suddenly. He trailed off what he was saying and gripped the arms of his chair. Strange…. When his head cleared up a bit, he continued, "But by helping to eliminate some of your kind, I have helped to ensure the safety of many honest sailors."

She batted her eyelashes too sweetly. "Yes," she said slowly, "I can see how I might make these 'honest sailors' quake in their boots."

He tried to appear angry and indignant, but he was sure that the attempt failed miserably, for he was becoming inexplicably light headed. His thoughts were beginning to swim in his mind, and he was unable to collect them properly. He shook his head, making an effort to clear it. "You obviously do not understand what it means to do something for the common good," he finally managed to tell her, if a bit shakily.

"Do I not?" she mused, her voice caressing his senses, "I think you are wrong." He felt dizzy, and as she stood and slowly swayed closer to him, he knew he should move back, but he couldn't find the will to do so. Then, she was so close to him that it made his heart begin to hammer even faster in his chest. He could feel the hard points of her nipples as her breasts brushed against his chest, and it made his manhood painfully hard within the confines of his britches. "You see, I'm doing something for the good of my men right now." With her light, soft fingers, she traced a line down the side of his neck. Then she let out a low, throaty laugh and added, "Though, I suppose you might be right, for I will be getting something out of this as well, _James_." His name coming from her delectable, full lips was like a lover's caress. "Let's not fight." And with that she leaned forward, pressing the length of her body against him, and, poised on the tips of her toes, began to kiss him deeply.

If his head wasn't swimming before, it certainly was now. The sensations that her soft, smooth lips gave him were almost unbearable. Despite his light-headedness, he was aware of her every characteristic at that moment. Her lips were like silk, as was the skin of her hands as they brushed the sides of his neck. When James breathed deeply, he could smell a faint scent of lavender and vanilla that he knew was coming from her. He was totally aware of how the soft contours of her body fit perfectly to his.

James knew that he shouldn't be allowing this to happen. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. How could he let her go on with this? But when her tongue traced over his lips, seeking entrance to his mouth, he pushed his cares to the back of his mind. Her tongue darted into his mouth and lingered there, brushing delightfully against his own. She tasted sweet, and he savored it. Then she gave his bottom lip a small painfully pleasing nibble and slowly pulled back.

He noticed that her bright green eyes were alight with the fires of desire. Whatever her true motives in this were, he at least knew that she was enjoying this. Bridget wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She threw his coat off his shoulders and tossed it away. "Shall we get you out of these uncomfortable clothes, James?" she breathed hotly against his neck as her fingers sought out the buttons of his shirt. He let her. Even if he had wanted her to stop, he knew that she was in control now.

He was totally at the mercy of this young pirate wench.

And oddly, he didn't care one bit.

Slowly, one by one, Bridget undid the buttons of his shirt. As she did so, she lightly stroked his chest and torso with her satiny fingertips. She let the shirt fall to the floor behind him. Then he was totally bare-chested. She let out a small sound of approval from deep within her throat as she firmly stroked her hands up and down. Palms flat and fingers splayed wide, she tested his muscles, caressing and applying pressure. She traced his nipples, making them harder than before.

Then when she looked up at him, her pupils were so dilated with arousal that the black almost covered the green. "Now," she panted as her hand trailed down to his belt, "For the rest." She took his mouth again, this time more firmly, more demanding. Her tongue dueled with his passionately, and James found himself putting just as much force into the kiss as she was. He gripped her waist tightly.

Breasts heaving with longing, she broke the kiss and dropped to her knees before him. As she looked up into his hungry dark green eyes, she rubbed the bulge in the front of his britches. The pleasure sent shivers up and down his spine, and he let his head fall back and moaned in ecstasy. Maddeningly slowly, she unbuttoned his britches and let the fall to his ankles. When she had him totally unclothed, his sex stood out from his body erect and ready for attention. If he didn't get release soon….

But Bridget was all too happy to oblige. James gasped as she wrapped her small hand around his member and stroked back and forth. The motion in itself was almost his undoing, and his pleasure was heightened almost to the precipice when she leaned forward and wrapped her plump lips around its tip.

James could barely draw breath as Bridget, kneeling in front of him, pleasured him both manually and orally at the same time. He had been with women before, most simply whores he could afford when he was at port, but he had never been so aroused or in such ecstasy. He didn't know if it was a talent Bridget possessed, or if it was whatever she had given him- for now he was certain that she had given him something. Some kind of aphrodisiac. He knew that he would not have let loose of all of his inhibitions unaided. Even so, he could not force himself to care.

Bridget flicked her tongue out on the head of his manhood, and James was reduced to whimpering. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could and sucked. It was all he could do to groan her name. He knew that if she didn't stop soon, he would be unable to hold back his climax. He was almost to that point now.

She must have sensed it, for she withdrew her mouth and her hand and stood up. He hated that he was without her skilled mouth and hands, but he knew that far better was coming. Bridget pressed herself tightly to him once again. The fabric of her clothes rasped against his bare skin, but he was too far gone to care about such trivial things. The one thing he cared about at the moment was getting her out of those clothes and into his bed a few steps away.

James could tell by her smoldering eyes that she wanted the very same thing.

Then she led him over to the bed. Any other time, James might have been a little miffed. After all, _he _was usually the one to lead a woman to the bed, not the other way around. But then again, he had desired anyone in such a way that he desired Bridget O'Callaghan right then.

"Lie down," she commanded breathlessly, gently but firmly pushing him down onto the bed. When he was on his back gazing up at her, she gave him a smile full of lustful promises of things to come.

Still staring down into his desire filled eyes, she threw off her brown vest. If it was even possible, his breath quickened. His whole body felt as if it was on fire with lust. Passion was ignited within him. He watched intently, his eyes burning into her, as, little by little, she removed her clothing. It felt as if it took forever, but finally the young pirate captain was standing before him in nothing but her skin. The sight was breathtaking.

Her long red hair flowed down to her hips in cascades like liquid fire. Her skin was a creamy white, marred only here and there by a few stray freckles. Her breasts were plump and round, not too big, not too small. Ideal handfuls topped with cherry red nipples that were ripe for tasting. Her form tapered down to a slender waist, and then further to shapely hips. Her legs were longer than they appeared when in the confines of her britches, but his gaze was drawn more to the apex between them.

Smiling seductively at him, Bridget climbed onto the bed with him. She straddled his hips, and her sex was so close to him that he could feel its moist heat. "Oh," she moaned as she arched herself against him. The view he had of her lush body was perfect. "James, you cannot tell me that you don't want this. I _know _you want this."

"Yes," he groaned. He didn't even have to think about his answer. He _did _want it. The consequences of what they were doing were far away from his mind at the moment. He _needed _Bridget with a desperate need. "I want this. I want _you_."

With a wordless cry of abandon, she pushed herself down onto him. James moaned helplessly as he felt his sex enter her. It had been so long since he had been with a woman, and she was so tight and warm, that it was all he could do to hold back from climaxing right there.

Sounds of their lovemaking filled the air. With each of Bridget's breaths, James' name rushed out of her mouth. James panted and moaned his desire for the woman moving above him.

They moved in unison for some time. Their lovemaking was like a complex dance, an art. Even through the haze of the drug, James knew that he had never experienced anything of its like before, with anyone. He didn't know what made Bridget so different, why she felt so right. He just knew she did.

As they each neared their orgasms, James gripped Bridget's hips in his hands and rolled her under him. She whimpered and threw her arms around his neck, holding on tightly. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, but he was beyond caring. He thrust into her again and again with such force that the bed shook.

Then, together, they went over the edge.

James couldn't think of anything that felt better than that release.

When their breathing and hear rates slowed, both the Commodore and the pirate fell into a content sleep in each others arms.

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Bridget awoke with a start. She had not meant to fall asleep, but luckily moonlight was still streaming in through the window so it was not yet morning. Quietly and slowly, she rose up from the bed. James still lay in the bed, sleeping peacefully. She sighed wistfully as she looked down on his relaxed, handsome face. Maybe in another world, another life….

She wished that things were different, for her night with James Norrington had been a night that she would never forget.

She had been with other men before; she was no blushing virgin. But nothing she had ever experienced could compare with what had just happened. She loathed that her motives had been less than friendly, and she loathed that she was now going to leave. It was likely that she might never see him again. Why did that make an icy cold ball of dread form in the pit of her stomach?

James was a very attractive man all of the time, but in sleep he looked so serene, so at peace. He looked beautiful. His dark eyebrows were arched elegantly and rested high on his forehead, giving him a noble appearance. The corners of his lips were turned up a bit, forming a small smile. His bold nose was straight and regal.

Bridget sighed again and shook her head. As much as she would love to stay there and admire the Commodore's beautiful form the whole night, she knew that she was wasting precious time. She had to keep in mind what she had started this for. She walked over to where she had distributed his clothes so heedlessly when their night together had first begun.

Two mornings before, she had seen James put the keys to the cells in which she and her men were in in his coat pocket. If she was lucky, they would still be there. After a moment of searching, she found her quarry. The silver keys shone in the moonlight, but even so, she could not force a smile.

Hurriedly she dressed, but her movements were rather lethargic, as if she'd rather not leave even though she knew she had to. When she was ready, she returned to James' bedside and gazed at him once more. Quietly, Bridget leaned down and placed a slow, soft kiss on his forehead. She couldn't resist doing the same to each of his closed eyelids. And then to his bold nose. And finally to his lips. Here, she lingered longest, savoring his feel and flavor, for she knew that that was most likely the very last time she would be able to taste him.

"Goodbye," she murmured softly as she moved to the door, "My Commodore." She silently slipped out of the room.

Inexplicably tears sprung in her eyes. She quickly banished them. What was wrong with her? She should feel triumphant! She was about to ensure the freedom of all her men. She should be thinking of how much that would mean to them, not about who she was leaving behind. She should feel triumphant.

But all Bridget O'Callaghan felt was empty.

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How could he have been so _stupid_?! James slammed his fist against the wooden side of the ship as he looked out into the ocean. No trace of the escapees, though he knew there wouldn't be. _Why _had he let her do that to him?!

Bridget and her crew had escaped in the night… after she took the keys from his coat and left his cabin.

She and her men had stolen two of their lifeboats and killed three of his men. James was beyond angry. What were his men thinking about him now? He had checked his cup of tea from the night before and sure enough there were traces of laudanum present. The young vixen had certainly drugged him, therefore it was not entirely his fault… but he wasn't sure that he was imagining the accusatory looks that he got from his men. They had known, after all, that the young captain had last been seen being taken to his private quarters.

The Gillette came up to him, breaking into his silent reflection. "Sir," he said, "What are your orders? Do we go after them?"

James thought. He didn't want to go after her. Despite the fact that she had tricked him, despite the fact that she had made him look a fool, he still felt a connection with Bridget. The night before had been… amazing. Perfect. "No," he said quietly.

"Sir?" Gillette probed curiously, his brow quirked in confusion.

"Don't go after her… them," James told him. What was the harm in letting one group of pirates get away? Especially when their captain was as beautiful as Bridget O'Callaghan…. "It's not the most important thing to us right now." He did his best to push Bridget from his thoughts, but it was difficult. "Sparrow is still loose. _He _is our priority. Inform the men."

"Aye, sir," Gillette replied before walking briskly away.

James sighed. He knew soon he would have to return to his duties, but now all he wanted to do was think back to the night before, when he had laid in his bed with one of the most mesmerizing women he had ever seen. Until then, he had not thought that much could be worse than when he had been jilted by Elizabeth Swann, but…. Well, he didn't know exactly what he was feeling. His feelings were still so jumbled.

Still, there was one thing that he was sure of. He didn't want last night to have been the last time he saw Bridget. If only… if only she wasn't who… _what_… she was. If only there were two different people… but alas, they were who they were. He sighed. Maybe he never would have a chance to be with her again, but he would always have the memory of their one night together.

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**A/N- **Well, what do you guys think? I hope you all like it. I'm actually considering continuing this, maybe going through DMC, but including Bridget. That is why I haven't marked it as 'complete' yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- **Thank you for reviewing! Now, this second chapter is going to skip forward to when James is in Tortuga.

**Chapter Two**

Drunken shouts and boisterous laughter made the small, run down tavern too loud to even hear one's own thoughts. It smelled strongly of rum, accompanied by the faint scent of vomit that had not been properly cleaned off the floors. Though, none of these details surprised James at all. He had spent enough nights in Tortuga to become quite used to it all. In fact, he had become a frequenter at this particular tavern. The maids and owner knew him by sight, and he was sure that none of them were particularly pleased when he walked in…. He had earned a reputation of being rather… confrontational… with the other patrons.

But how could they blame him?! Even as he thought about it, his anger grew, boiling up inside of him. He didn't belong in a place like this! With these… bloody pirates! That seemed to be all that filled Tortuga: filthy pirates, whores, and criminals! He shouldn't be thrown in with a lot like that…. But unfortunately now he was, and it was all because of that God damned Jack Sparrow!

James drained his mug of rum and slammed the empty mug down on the bar top. Angrily, he called for more. He wanted to get good and drunk. Just as he had the night before. And the night before that.

Yes, Jack Sparrow was once again the bane of his existence. If not for that wretched man, James would still be Commodore of the British Royal Navy, a good upstanding citizen of Port Royal. Now, that life was behind him. Gone forever. Now, he was reduced to being a lowly, drunk in the most evil, disgusting place on God's green earth.

Then his angry reflections were interrupted when someone, already feeling the effects of the strong rum, bumped into him from behind, sloshing some of the contents of his newly filled mug over his hand. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" James growled as he turned in his seat. He leveled the man with a heated glare.

The man was either very confident or far too drunk to care whether or not a fight broke out. He stopped his swaying and turned to look at James. It took a moment, but soon he recognized who was glaring at him. "Oh forgive me," he began in a- albeit slurred- sarcastic tone, "Glorious, former Commodore. Did I offend ya?" He let out a loud laugh.

James' anger simmered. After he arrived in Tortuga, it hadn't taken very long for word of his true identity to surface. Needless to say, he wasn't the most popular chap in the place, and often people took advantage of his newfound lowness and teased him cruelly about his 'fall from glory.' He was used to it, but just because it happened often didn't make it any more fun or any easier to deal with. He stood from his chair. "I would advise you to watch where you are going next time," he bit out through clenched teeth.

The drunken man threw his head back and laughed again. His round belly shook. "Did ya 'ear that, men," he called out, "I think the 'igh n' mighty Commodore is threatenin' me!" There were loud replies of things like: "Oh the mighty Commodore!" "Maybe it's 'bout time someone put 'im in 'is place!" "Knock 'im down a peg er two!" and so on and so forth. James had heard it all before.

He didn't waste time with a reply. Instead he punched the man full on in the face. His fist made contact with the man's jaw, and a crack resounded through the bar. But the man wasn't deterred. For a brief instant, he stood with his hand clutched to his aching jaw, but then he was retaliating with a quick punch to James' stomach. James doubled over with a groan.

Then a full blown tavern brawl broke out.

Shots and yells rang out from every side. The servants rushed to try and put a stop to the sudden chaos, but it wasn't much use. By now everyone was fighting. It didn't matter that the conflict had originated between two men alone. If there was a chance given to fight these men would be glad to take it. They were a rowdy bunch, eager for a brawl.

Not too long into the fight, a group of men seized James and began hauling him towards the door. Shouting angry obscenities, he waved his sword around, praying to make contact with at least one of them. He kicked and tried to throw himself out of their grasps, but there were more than he could fight.

They tossed him out the door and into the mud on the streets.

"Hey watch where you're bloody throwing people!" shouted a woman as he crashed into her legs knocking her off balance and into the mud with him. He ended up sprawled on top of her, too groggy to move right away. "Hey!" she yelled at him as she grasped his arms and made a weak effort to push him off her, "Get off me, you bas…" She trailed off suddenly and that's when James first looked at her face. She had pale skin and full pink lips and bright green eyes that were now staring up at him intently. Familiar eyes. "James Norrington?" she breathed disbelievingly.

"Bridget O'Callaghan?" he murmured back, though there was no need to question. He knew it was her. How could he not recognize that face?

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**A/N- **Sorry it's so short, but I just wanted to go ahead and get this out. I'm going to try and concentrate more on my Jack/OC story now, though, so I don't know if this will get updated again soon or not. I'm rather flighty when it comes to what I'm in the mood to write.


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